


The Game Is Afoot

by almeaculpa



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Games, Plotting, Sheriarty - Freeform, Staged Crime Scene, Steganography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:56:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2260170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almeaculpa/pseuds/almeaculpa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm seeking a Sherlock. This is a fic and a challenge - perhaps if you can solve my little puzzle we could work out some kind of ... Mutually satisfactory arrangement? I get so <strong>bored</strong>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Game Is Afoot

Carrying out any sort of crime has an appeal of some sort. I've handled so many jobs now that I've built my own  
5 category system to keep the archives organized. Profit, Politics, Passion, Pandemonium, Personal.  
Helps that the Personal wing is so limited, though since you've finally taken notice I've had to move, oh,  
8 jobs that weren't begun for you into new exhibits there. It's only for Personal jobs that I take souvenirs.  
Never thanked me for giving up those trainers, you know. They were the beginning of quite a collection. I keep  
4 different storage facilities for various reasons (you would go mad with ecstasy in any one of them).  
Of the four my most favorite is the one where I kept Carl fucking Powers' shoes. I still think that at  
12 Carl was as much of a monster as you'd like me to be now. You still don't know how I met little Carl, do you?

I was eleven, he was twelve.5We weren't schoolmates, though I suspect you already knew that much.1Sometimes you ask the wrong questions..A boy from Brighton comes up to London for a swim meet.4How does he meet a boy from Dublin?8Have you assumed all this time that my speech is so thoroughly false?4I don't know if that's flattering or depressing, Sherlock.2We met in Brighton, you've got that much right.8Holidays, you know how it is.9My father had been offered the chance to do a bit of research at the Booth.2He took Mum & I along for the ride - she spent the whole season soaking up sun and trash novels.0I was rather left to my own devices..I spent a great deal of time in the museums in the first weeks but it was when I moved on to the library that I crossed paths with Carl.1I walked in each morning, picked something (my first exposure to astronomy, The Measurement of Starlight, and oh Sherlock, it made so much sense in such a senseless world) and walked back to sit by the sea.2Carl's mother dropped him there each morning and presumably deluded herself into thinking he did something more than hang around long enough for his cronies to arrive before fucking off to deface property or harass the tourists before swim practice.4They followed me every day, taunting.0Carl was the first of them to lay a finger on me.6They all got going though, it was a very William Golding type event.5I suppose in some sense I owe them for the lesson they taught me.8Hard to pay that debt though, given that every one of them is dead now.

But enough about my childhood, really. That's not the point of all this. Tell me, super sleuth, what happens next?

**Author's Note:**

> Just trying to have some fun. See something, say something @almeaculpa. I'm waiting...
> 
> Again, disappointing. Is my style too opaque for you darlings?


End file.
